It Won't Shut Up
by SPEEEEEEEAK
Summary: The story of how Evita died, told in four parts. Rated for language and the eventual death of Evita.
1. The Woman and a Plan

**A/N: This will tell the story of how Evita died. There are three chapters, and three points of view. The first chapter is from the woman who told Angel to kill Evita's point of view [who is remaining nameless and shall be referred to as 'the woman']. **

A long, black limousine cruised around the streets of Alphabet City. It took a corner too fast, the tires screeching, kicking up debris from the street. Everyone looked around to see what the source of the noise was, but averted their eyes when they saw it was someone of importance.

In the backseat, a very irritated aristocrat was rubbing her temples. She was plotting revenge, or rather, she was attempting to. But so far, she wasn't getting much of anywhere. She took a sip out of a cardboard to-go coffee cup and stifled a yawn.

_Fuck that stupid dog_, she thought.

And while that was fairly rude of her, it was true. That stupid dog's infernal barking kept her up all night, every night, and she was at the breaking point. Not sleeping through the night for almost a year could do that to you.

It was a shame really. The neighbours were such lovely people. But that dog…keeping it was out of the question.

That dog _had to go_.

Now.

One way or another, that dog was gonna be gone by Christmas. She couldn't wait any longer. And if it wasn't gone by the next day, she'd get rid of it herself instead of making someone else do the dirty work for her. Now if only she had a plan…

She had taken the matter up with Alison and Benny, but that woman refused to do anything about that damn dog! She was attached to the stupid thing. She cuddled it, made it outfits, talked to it! It was insane. The dog wasn't even that cute.

And that name…_Evita?_ It sounded old-fashioned. And trying to make the dog seem Hispanic, when it obviously wasn't? The woman shook her head. In her opinion, Alison didn't have a brain in her head.

The woman's head was throbbing by this point. From lack of sleep, from lack of food, thinking too much, what did it matter? And it only got worse when the sound of drumming penetrated the plate glass window.

_Thump, bada-da, boom! Thump, bada-da, boom!_

Whoever was drumming had talent, even if it was annoying.

_Thump, bada-da, boom! _

The woman laughed lightly thinking that if it was giving her this much of a headache, what would happen if the yappy dog had to sit through this?

_Thump, bada-da, boom! _

No, not if. When.

_Thump, bada-da, boom!_

An idea was slowly forming in her head.

"Stop the car!" she commanded to the stuffy man who was being forced to drive her around. He hit the brake with as much force as he could muster, slamming the woman's head into the seat back in front of her. "Shit," she muttered under her breath.

The chauffer smirked at the woman's pain as he pulled jerkily over to the curb. The woman rolled down her window and looked out onto the busy New York scene.

_Thump, bada-da, boom!_

The drumming was still going on, but where was it coming from? She glanced around the street until she spotted the source of the noise.

A young Latino man sat on a concrete stoop banging on a white plastic pickle tub. A young girl who couldn't have been more than five or six years old walked by and dropped a quarter on top of the tub.

The Latino looked up smiling and said something to the little girl. The child beamed at the man and hugged him before she was dragged away by a woman who must have been her mother.

The woman waited until the man had waved after the little girl before sticking her head partway out the window of the limousine. She caught the man's eye and beckoned to him. The Latino looked over his shoulder and then jabbed a finger at his chest and raised an eyebrow as if to say, "_Me?"_

The woman nodded and motioned for him to come to the car. The drumming stopped and the woman settled back in her seat to await the arrival of the boy. She couldn't wait to see her brilliant plan get off the ground.

**A/N: Thoughts? The next chapter will be from Angel's point of view. **


	2. Angel and the Killing of a Dog

**A/N: Thanks all who reviewed! This chapter is in Angel's point of view. And Angel is being referred to as a he because he's not in drag. He's wearing what he has on at the beginning of the movie, if that helps any. Enjoy!**

Angel waved as the little girl walked off and shivered as a cold wind blew past. He wrapped his orange windbreaker around himself tighter and looked up as he heard a screeching sound. A limousine was parked at the curb, and the tinted window slowly began to roll down as Angel continued to stare at the car.

An older woman stuck her beak-ish nose out and curled her pointer finger to motion to Angel. Angel looked around and jabbed himself in the middle of his chest. The woman nodded and retreated back into the shadow of her car.

Angel stood up slowly, the spot where he had jabbed himself throbbing along with his heartbeat. Everything that Mimi had ever said about strangers flashed through his mind.

Although Angel was suspicious, his curiosity overcame him eventually and picking up his pickle tub, he walked towards the car, ready to scream and run if necessary. Angel figured that if he was going to die, he might as well see if he could get a free meal out of it first. When he had finally reached the car, he bent down to peer in the window.

The lady who sat there was about 50 with damaged and frizzed red hair. Her lips were a deep red colour and chapped. She spoke and her voice sounded as though she was a smoker, gravely and husky.

"I need your help," she said.

"How?" Angel asked, still suspicious of her.

"I haven't been able to sleep properly for a year," the lady said. "It's my neighbour's nuisance of a dog. If the little brat was to just, say, _disappear_, it would be simply wonderful dahling."

"And how would this dog, um, 'disappear?'" Angel asked. "And how much would it bring?" he added as an afterthought.

"Just play your drums nonstop, the dog can't stand noise. It'll bark itself to death. Ironic, isn't it? That he can be so loud, but hate noise," the lady mused. There was a brief silence as the woman thought then said, "$1000 – in cash?"

Angel didn't waste a second in saying, "Where do I go?" The woman chuckled to herself before thrusting a hand with talon like fingernails out the window. Angel took the slip of paper in her hands and put it in his jeans pocket.

"Go to that address," the woman instructed. "When you're done with the job, go to the house across the street and one to the left to the side entrance. That's my house. I'll pay you then."

"What about the owners of the dog?" Angel asked, concerned about getting caught.

"They're trying to stop some protest; they won't be home all day. Oh, and bring earplugs. You'll need 'em."

And with that last bit of advice, she drove off, leaving Angel to go and kill a dog. No pressure or anything.

*** * ***

Angle went to the address scribbled on the paper and found himself in a nice, middle-class neighbourhood. There were apartments on one side of the street and houses on the other.

It was incredibly quiet for New York, and there were no cars driving around. Angel found the correct apartment building and looked up.

_The twenty-third floor_, he reminded himself. Up, up, up. The penthouse level. Angel could just make out something standing on the window sill of the open window, which he assumed was the dog.

He found a comfortable seat on a bench across from the window; put the earplugs that he had got from a corner convenience store in his ears and began to drum. He could hear a faint noise that must have been the little dog barking, but the earplugs did their job and he couldn't hear anything.

Even though it was Christmas Eve, everyone who lived in the neighbourhood must have been at work, for no one came out to yell at the person who was driving the dog insane. As Angel drummed he contemplated the things he would do for money.

Killing a dog _was_ mean, but maybe the dog deserved it. At any rate, he _really_ needed the money. With a thousand dollars, he could take Mimi out for Christmas brunch. Or buy that new pair of shoes that he was eyeing in that store the other day. Give some of it to the homeless in tent city. The possibilities were endless.

All of a sudden, Angel noticed that the dull barking had stopped. He looked up and focused on the penthouse window. It was still open, but the dog was no longer there. Angel got up, grabbed the pickle tub, and walked until he stood below the window. "Doggie!" he called up. No response. He banged the tub once more. Nothing. He shrugged and began walking out of the flower bed he had been standing in, when he stepped on something soft.

He looked down. An Akita, the dog that must have been up in the penthouse, lay dead on the ground. Angel bowed his head and said a quick prayer and then walked across the street to a tan brick house and knocked on the wrought iron side door.

The woman from the limousine pulled open the door and ushered him inside. "Evita's dead?" she asked hurriedly. Angel took Evita to be the dog and nodded.

"Lovely," she praised him, shoving a wad of cash into his hands. "I had no involvement in this, remember?" Angel nodded again. "Merry Christmas!" the woman called out the door as Angel left.

Once he was on the street, he counted the money. Fifteen hundred dollars! _Nice tip_, he thought as he hurried along. Merry Christmas indeed.

**A/N: You like it? Review! I know he got a bonus for decorating the Christmas tree, but I decided that he would just get the bonus anyway. =p The next and final chapter will be from Evita's point of view! That will be interesting…**


	3. Evita and Death

**A/N: This is the third chapter. This is Evita's point of view, which I'm sure will be extremely special. And it will sound fairly dumb, as Evita is a dog, and I'm not sure how bright they are. **

_Grr! Woof! Bark, yap, bark! _

This was fun. Evita liked making noises. Evil mean lady across the street got mad when she made noises, but she didn't stop. She didn't like evil mean lady.

Evita kept up a permanent perch on the windowsill in the large glass penthouse windows. Today was no different.

Evita lay next to the open window on the warm sill that had been in the sun for most of the day. She twitched and tried to bite the ribbon on the Christmas collar that she was wearing. Mommy had brought it to her this morning and put it on while she ate a treat. Mommy was mean. Evita didn't like collars; this one was no exception.

But, aside from the whole collar thing, Evita liked Mommy. She petted her, fed her yummy people food, and yelled at evil mean lady across the street. Mommy took good care of her.

Daddy was pretty nice too. He took her on lots of trips. Sometimes they went to a bad place where she would get shots, but most of the time he would take her to places that she would get petted and fawned over. Which Evita liked. She loved attention, and barking got her a lot of it, even if it was bad attention.

Evita was snoozing peacefully on the window ledge when she was awakened by an obnoxious noise. If there was one thing that she hated more than evil mean lady, it was getting woken up when she was sleeping.

Not that it stopped her from doing it to other people, but still. She was so totally more amazing than everyone else in the world that they should all just bow to her and obey her every whim. Evita had a very high opinion of herself.

She glared out the window, letting the cool December air waft over her. Where was the annoying sound coming from? Evita spied a pretty boy wearing a vibrant orange jacket, the only colour in her world besides black and white. He was pounding on a bucket with tree branches.

Humans are stupid, Evita decided. She whined and tried to hide from the noise that was coming in through the open window. Why did Mommy have to pick today to leave the window open? There was only one thing to do in a situation like this.

_Grr! Woof! Bark, yap, bark! _

The drumming persisted.

_Grr! Woof! Bark, yap, bark! _

This was getting really annoying.

_Grr! Woof! Bark, yap, bark! _

How long had pretty orange boy been pounding that thing?

_Grr…Woof…Bark, yap, bark? _

So tired…

_Grr…Woof…Bark…yap…bark… _

Running out of oxygen. Not sure how long this can go on.

_grr, wheeze, woof…bark, wheeze, yap…bark… _

The cold air feels so good. How far down is it?

_Gr-Wo-Ba-ya-ba- _

Flying!

No – falling.

Silence.

**A/N: Wasn't that special? And, thanks to a brilliant idea from I'll Cover Angel and Collins, there is going to be one more chapter! YAY! Whose point of view is it? You're gonna have to wait to find out! [Aren't I evil?]**


	4. Collins and an Angel

**A/N: **_**This**_** is the last chapter. I swear. So, up to this point, Angel has killed Evita, been paid, and gone on his merry little way. Then he meets someone on the street and tells him his tale. Any guesses who? COLLINS! This is dedicated to I'll Cover Angel and Collins for being amazing and giving me this idea. **

"You _killed_ a _dog_?" Collins heard himself exclaim in disbelief.

The gorgeous man that had just saved his ass, Angel, hung his head in shame. "Yeah," he whispered quietly.

Collins mentally kicked himself. Here he was, lying on the cold cement ground, bloody and bruised, and he had just repremanded his savior.

"It's ok," Collins said, searching his head for the right words. "You just seem too amazing and sweet to do something like that."

Angel looked up at him and smiled shyly. Collins could feel his heart speed up and the heat creep into his face.

"You're cute when you blush," Angel remarked, causing him to blush even more. Collins hated blushing, it made him feel emotional and soft, which he didn't like bringing out around people, especially incredibly cute strangers.

"You killed a dog," he replied sharply, more so than he meant to.

Angel laughed lightly. "I got fifteen hundred dollars out of it though," he reminded Collins. Collins couldn't help but smile at that one.

"Come on," Angel said, helping him stand up. Pain shot through Collins, but it seemed dull by Angel's hands on his arms.

"So as I was saying before you started yelling at me for killing the damn dog, I've got money. You wanna get something to eat?"

Collins' head spun. Was Angel asking him out? He looked at Angel quizzically. "You have no money, you're beat up, and it's Christmas Eve," the drummer reminded him.

Collins nodded slowly. He didn't want to impose on Angel to buy him food or take care of him or whatever, but he could sure use it. As the pair walked down the street Angel let his hand slip from Collins' upper arm to his hand.

"You doing ok?" he asked. "Never better," Collins replied with a wide grin. Angel matched his grin. "This is the best Christmas Eve ever," he remarked. "How so?" Collins asked, thinking of only Angel's hand in his.

"I made that lady's day better, got temporarily rich, and have a date with a hot guy," Angel said, smiling sweetly up at him. Collins felt his heart stop. He did the only thing he could think of.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against Angel's. To his surprise, Angel returned the kiss. They must have stood on that street corner for a good five minutes before either of them remembered that they were going somewhere.

Collins grabbed Angel's hand and they continued walking. He looked over at this amazing man; one he was sure was the love of his life.

His Angel.

Collins went back to an earlier conversation as he said softly, "This really _is_ the best Christmas Eve ever."

**A/N: Tada! I know that that isn't how the movie / play goes, but that's how I wanted it to be. So get over it. Thanks to all who reviewed and whatever. =D**


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